My breath reeks of garlic. My pores probably do too. But by now I've consumed so much of the stuff that I can't tell how offensive I am to anyone else. I just know I can vaguely taste it, and if I can taste it, it is bad for the rest of you. So stay back.

Today Jer and I went to the Italian Festival at the Seattle Center, which was on the smallish side. We ate a sausage sandwich each, meatballs, lots of garlic knots, a Salumi sampler, a cannoli, and then spent some time in the beer and wine garden. Also, we bought roasted garlic bread and a brownie to take home. Then we ate garlic pizza at Zeek's and now we breathe fire and garlic. So stay back.

Also, we went to the Science Fiction Museum, which was totally awesome. I am all over that. We totally saw Gort and Captain Kirk's chair and lots of books I want to read and THE Alien and omg, best. museum. ever! And there was a mystery machine and they invited you to guess as to what it could possibly be for and I totally guessed it was an air freshener, which is much funnier if you read the whole paragraph I wrote about the danger of sulphur emissions and olfactory enhancers available in the western boundary of Known Space, and although no one else may crack a smile, I crack myself right up.

But oh the garlic burning all the way down all day long. Now I am pretty sure that I will exude garlic from my person for days, so in case you forgot or thought I was joking, I implore you to stay back. I have established a perimeter of funk and you cross it at your own risk.